by Cindi Madsen
“It’s me,” he said. “What’s the name of that place the waitress works now?”
“Cassie?” Sal asked, and Carlo clenched his jaw and prayed for strength. Carlo might have a clean phone but Sal was on his regular cell. Before he could say anything more, Sal added, “McCarthy’s Steak and Seafood.”
“Okay, that’s all I needed.”
“Is something going on?” Sal asked. This was why he’d wanted the information from Vince—no follow up questions.
“Just take care of your rounds.” Carlo hung up. For a moment he wondered if he’d heard wrong, but he was sure he hadn’t. Maybe Vince had slipped up since he was distracted—he certainly didn’t call back to clear it up, though. Then again, he had to know how easy it’d be for him to find out.
Carlo raked his fingers through his hair.
Well, intentional or not, he was sick of playing this game. Time to take some options away. He’d been getting a ton of complaints from New York lately about Bobby, angry calls about not being able to teach the kid a lesson in respect.
Carlo held them off, but putting out the message that Bobby wasn’t under his protection anymore would send the sharks circling the bloody water, fighting to take the first bite.
Within a day or two, Vince would be begging him to take them both in.
And while he was busy with Bobby, maybe Carlo would make a visit to McCarthy’s himself and see just how much Cassie remembered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vince was pulling up to McCarthy’s to pick up Cassie when his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but between the restaurant and Carlo and his crew, that happened a lot. Ever since his uncle’s odd phone call yesterday he’d been on edge, dread going though him whenever the phone rang.
Maybe that was why a sense of foreboding unfurled in his gut. He climbed out of the Jeep and hit the lock button on his key fob as he answered. “Hello?”
“Vince, it’s me.”
That familiar voice explained the foreboding. Vince couldn’t remember the last time his brother called without that tinge of panic in his voice. He leaned against the pale brick exterior of McCarthy’s and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Bobby?”
“What? No nice to hear from you?” Offense dripped from his words, but they both knew any second he’d get to the point, and it’d be bad. “Fine, you’re right. I’m in trouble.”
“Which city jail are you in now? I don’t even know where you’ve been living these days.”
“New York. And I’m not in jail, but apparently I’m no longer under Carlo’s family protection plan. Did you know about that?”
The edges of the phone dug into Vince’s palm as he gripped it tighter. Before he cracked it in half, he forced himself to relax. “He’s trying to get me to join him again. I didn’t think he’d go this far.” He swallowed, scared to ask but knowing he had to. “How bad is it?”
“I owe some people. Bad people. I just need a little loan to get me by. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
“The only payback I ever get is being indebted to Carlo. You let him bail you out and pay off your debts, then you disappear and I end up doing jobs I really don’t like just to keep you alive. You never learn because I keep stepping in to save your ass. You’re going to have to grow up sometime. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“I can’t grow up when I’m dead.” The panic merged with desperation, transferring through the phone until Vince’s nerves stretched paper-thin. “I already called Carlo, and he said he was done with me. That he wouldn’t lend me a dime, and if I wanted that to change, I’d have to talk to you.”
Angry heat wound through Vince’s body, and he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. So much for thinking his uncle wasn’t a heartless bastard. He’d never resorted to methods this low before. Either something bad had happened, or Carlo was sick of waiting for an answer. Both spelled trouble for Vince… and even more for Bobby.
Vince peered through the large window of McCarthy’s, searching for Cassie’s blond head. It probably didn’t pan out so well for her, either.
“How much?” Vince asked, holding his breath as he waited for the undoubtedly shitty answer.
“Ten will buy me some time. Twenty will keep them off for good.”
“Twenty grand? Where the fuck am I supposed to get twenty grand?”
“I just need ten. I…I’ll find a way to get the rest. Somehow.”
Sure he would. More like he’d use the time to get a head start at running, then call Vince when they caught up. Then it’d be twenty all over again.
“If you want to let them kill your only brother, I understand,” Bobby said, although panic pinched the words, leaving his attempted lightheartedness too flat. “At least now you’ll know why I stopped calling.”
Vince let his head drop against the unforgiving brick wall, knocking it back three times before resting it there and letting out an exhale. “I need to think, and if you keeping saying stupid shit like that I’ll let them rid me of you for good. Call me back in an hour.”
Why I stopped calling, my ass. Like Bobby ever called for any reason besides ones like this. Vince thought of his savings account—the account that was supposed to be his possibility for something else. Lately, he’d been thinking of possibilities that involved Cassie. That damned fictional little house in California or Texas kept popping up, even though he’d told himself it wasn’t an option.
But it’d definitely not be an option if he didn’t have his savings to keep them afloat.
Take away twenty grand and the realm of possibilities narrowed considerably. Carlo would have that much in the safe in his office. All Vince had to do was walk in, tell his uncle that he was in, and he’d hand over the money. Actually, he’d probably make a call and settle for half the amount and no one would ever touch Bobby again, no matter how deep he got in with drug dealers. But this time, paying back Bobby’s debts wouldn’t mean a couple of months collecting money from local business owners for “protection” and shaking them down if they refused. It’d be running drugs and being on-call day and night to whatever Carlo wanted him to do.
It’d be keeping the guys in line, using his fists on a regular basis, and being onboard with selling drugs to kids who’d end up like Bobby.
Knowing when hits were going down and executing them.
Within a month or so, he’d probably become numb to it. Come home and kick back with a beer as if it’d been just a regular workday like Dad used to do. Eventually settle down, have a couple kids, and teach them to play catch until one of his or Carlo’s enemies gunned him down, if the backstabbing men in his crew didn’t get to him first.
Vince pushed off the building and paced up and down the sidewalk. He’d never pull Cassie into that life, and she’d never stand for it, so she’d be out of the picture for sure.
She’s out of the picture anyway.
For a brief moment, he entertained the thought of giving in. If he couldn’t have what he truly wanted, he might as well get the benefit of more power and more money. Just embrace who he was and own it.
The door of McCarthy’s opened, and Cassie stepped out. She shot him a heart-stopping smile as she walked up and looped her arms around his neck. Her lips touched his, and he closed his eyes, soaking her in while he could.
When she pulled back, her eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, waving off her question, but then she put her hand on the side of his face and moved in close enough that her chest bumped his. “Vince, I can tell something’s wrong. Talk to me.”
He crumpled like a two-dollar bill. “It’s my brother. He’s in trouble again.”
“You need to go help him out of it?”
He gave a caustic laugh. “You mean go enable him some more?” No matter what, Bobby was all he had, and he was his brother. He couldn’t let people hurt him, regardless of his many chances and screw-ups, and how many times it’d happen aga
in. “I’m all he’s got. I can’t just leave him.”
“See?” she whispered. “Good guy. Is this where I say I told you so? Or is that insensitive under the circumstances?”
Despite everything, he smiled. Then he gathered her to him and hugged her. As furious as it made him to think of his brother tossing everything aside for his next fix, here he was doing the same. Only his drug of choice was a woman. He ran his nose across her cheek and pressed a kiss under her ear. She shivered and clung tighter to him.
“You’re still wrong about that, but right now I don’t really care.”
Once he released her, she readjusted her glasses. “So, where is he?” She winced. “Jail?”
“He’d probably be safer in jail.” It slipped out before Vince thought better of it, but it was the sad truth. “He’s in New York, and he owes people a lot of money.”
“I’m sure it’s not easy knowing what to do. But when it comes to people we love, we’ve just gotta help them and believe that someday they’ll change, right?” Cassie wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He wondered if she could hear the way his heartbeat quickened with her there. “You go take care of it, and when you get back, I’ll cook you dinner, complete with lots of trick tossing and catching. You think it’ll just take a day, or will it be longer?”
It’d take at least three hours of driving back and forth, and who knew how long to take care of the people after Bobby, so probably most of tomorrow. And Vince would definitely have to go there—if Bobby even attempted to come here, they’d think he was running and beat him to the brink of death, if not send him on over. After all, it’d be what Carlo would do in the same situation.
Anger sparked again as he thought about Carlo putting him and Bobby in this situation. He wasn’t going to give his uncle the satisfaction of joining his ranks after he’d used Bobby as a disposable pawn in his grand chess game.
He ran his hand down Cassie’s back, pressing her closer, and thought about leaving her here, unwatched. Unprotected.
There was the supposed P.I. incident that still didn’t sit right with him. And what if that pig who was in love with her decided to show up and one of the boys saw her with him?
Or Carlo, heaven forbid. His sudden interest in where she worked dug at him, a scab he hadn’t been able to stop picking at since yesterday. He probably screwed up when he dodged his question and fudged the name of the restaurant.
Does he think I don’t have it handled?
He’d need his head in the game to save Bobby’s ass, but how was he supposed to do that if he was constantly worried about Cassie? Seriously, was anyone not watching her right now?
Maybe if she stayed home the entire time? Yeah, like she’ll listen to me just because I ask nicely. And demanding won’t work. She’ll tell me I need to trust her judgment.
He trusted her judgment. He just didn’t trust all the shady people who were way too interested in her right now. It’s not like Carlo or his boys couldn’t find their way into her place if they were determined enough.
On the other hand, if Cassie went with him, Carlo might think she was trying to run. But what if Sal decided to pull a fast one? When Vince ran into him at Rossi’s, the guy made no attempt to hide he was holding a grudge.
I’m totally fucked every which way.
Well, the one thing he was certain of was that Cassie needed to stay away from McCarthy’s while he was gone. “Cassie, I need you to go tell Mr. Brown you need tomorrow off.”
“Are you kidding me? He’ll freak out.”
Vince’s gaze zeroed in on the door, his feet propelling him toward it. “Then I’ll go do it.”
“Wait, wait.” Cassie put a hand on Vince’s chest; it was kind of cute she thought that would stop him. “How crazy pants are you going to be over this?”
“On a scale of one to ten, I’d say a twenty.”
“I’ll go see if anyone will cover my shift. You…” She pushed him back against the wall. “Stay.”
He almost growled that he wasn’t a dog, but he supposed that would’ve been counterintuitive. She also softened the command with a kiss, so he let it slide.
When she still hadn’t come out ten minutes later, he straightened, ready to go work his powers of persuasion. But then she pushed out the door, her lips in a pouty frown, and he asked whose ass he needed to kick.
“No one’s. Tyra switched days off with me, but only after making me promise to take one of her shifts in the future.” Cassie shuddered. “I feel like I just sold my soul.”
Vince swept her hair off her face and softly kissed those pouty lips. “At least we’re on a semi-level playing field now. I sold my soul years ago.”
Now he just needed to figure out if he was going to try to convince her to stay home and lock her doors up tight or drag her to New York, where he’d most likely have to deal with shady drug dealers or loan sharks.
This was what it all came down to, right? The thing he’d been conflicted about from the very beginning. Sweat pricked his brow and acid burned the back of his throat as he realized there was no way he could keep Bobby and Cassie protected at the same time, and he’d inevitably have to choose between the girl of his dreams and his baby brother…
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carlo’s don senses tingled. It was his business to know his guys, know his territories, and know when something just wasn’t right.
He swore he heard a click on the home phone last night. Then, right after, during the meeting at the docks, he thought one of his men was baiting him, asking questions about past guys he’d snuffed out and wanting in-depth details of the next shipment. He instructed Dante to take him on a drive and make sure he wasn’t wearing a wire.
Dante cleared the guy and told him to stop asking so many fucking questions, but that didn’t ease the paranoia that had Carlo glancing in his rearview and watching his words over the phone. He swept his home, office, and car for bugs this morning and came up empty on that end, too.
But he didn’t get this far by ignoring his instincts, and he wasn’t about to start now. So he called a meeting and told Mia they weren’t to be disturbed. “Even if it’s my wife,” he made sure to add, since her last pop-in to the restaurant had started a whole snowball of shit.
They were still short a waitress, and Angelo claimed it was why they hadn’t taken in as much money; people were complaining about the slow service and looking at the wait time and leaving. Carlo almost hired one of Mia’s friends who’d put in an application, but last minute decided it simply wasn’t worth having any untrusted ears around or having another incident like the one with Cassie.
Finally, his four capos were gathered in his office. They weren’t the brightest, but they were some of the hardest. Part of the reason he wanted Vince by his side was to get a better balance. His nephew knew how to use his fists, but he also knew when to talk his way out. To think ahead. To not use fucking names over the fucking phone.
Carlo leaned his palms on his desk, sweeping his gaze across his men. “You boys are watching for tails, right? Keeping your phone conversations clean?”
They all nodded.
“Lately I’ve been feeling additional eyes on me. Be extra cautious. Get your work done, but if something smells bad, move locations. Keep details last minute. Don’t say anything that could lead back to yourselves or to me. You all know I reward loyalty. If you think you’ve got a rat, take care of it.”
His men assured him they’d be cautious and report anything out of the ordinary. Carlo dismissed them, flopped into his chair, and rubbed his temples. The stress was starting to get to him.
He pulled out his phone and tried Vince, but all he got was his voicemail.
Maybe he’d merely slipped up on that restaurant name, but Carlo didn’t have the luxury of hoping, especially now that the heat was being cranked up.
He’d expected a call from Vince by now. Either to ask for money or protection or both. He was sure he’d take off to New York
to get Bobby regardless, because no matter how many times that kid screwed up, Vince dropped everything. He always gave Bobby a lengthy lecture as he was saving his ass, which was why the kid had started to call Carlo instead. Why listen to a spiel that’d make you feel guilty when your uncle would bail you out and then collect from your brother when you disappeared?
Under usual circumstances, Carlo would’ve never put up with someone skipping out instead of paying him back, but he’d let it slide. Partly because the kid was blood and his father had been killed working for him, but mostly because it kept Vince close.
That was blood for you—made you do things you normally wouldn’t.
Is it making me soft? I can’t do soft. He should’ve denied Vince’s request to run the restaurant and pushed harder from the beginning. Now Vince had gone and forced his hand.
The kid would thank him later. He might need to learn a hard lesson first, and Carlo would give it to him.
He stroked his goatee, working out a plan of action. If the feds were circling—the way they tended to do every few years—he needed to make sure he had all his ducks in a row. Covering his tracks and no loose threads were why the feds never got anything on him, and why they never would.
His mind circled back to Cassie, the only loose thread he’d ever let live. With everything else going on, he’d nearly forgotten about his plan to check in on her this afternoon. He told himself Vince was taking care of it, and maybe it was the extra paranoia talking, but suddenly he wondered if he was just dragging out the inevitable.
Possible attention versus a dead possible witness?
Attention he could handle; a witness, not so much.
Which was why a dead possible witness always won, hands down.
***
Cassie approached her beast of a car and turned to Vince as she patted the hood. “Do you want to take my car to New York instead? I’ve been neglecting him lately, and he’s super impressive. Goes from zero to sixty in, like, five minutes, and everyone will stare at us.”
